


Gate of Horn

by yarroway



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dreams and Nightmares, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 10:26:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3324107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarroway/pseuds/yarroway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilson dreams of summer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gate of Horn

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my beta, Srsly_yes.

Wilson dreams of summer.

In his dream he's young again. Twenty, maybe, the age where everything seems possible. He's wearing shorts and he's riding his old skateboard along the boardwalk down the shore. There are all the usual stores and mini arcades along his left side. On his right is the beach.

The sky is a pure, cloudless blue. Sunlight sparkles on the water.

He makes his way to the shore. The sand is hot and annoying to walk on in flip flops, so it takes a while to get to the water. He ditches the skateboard just at the point where the dry sand turns to wet even though he's uneasily aware that it might get swept away.

The beach is deserted. There's just Wilson and the ocean on a beautiful summer afternoon. He steps out of his shoes. He has the urge to take off his shorts and swim in the nude. If he wears them in the water they'll be wet and uncomfortable later. And, inevitably, they'll be sandy.

There is little Wilson hates more than sandy clothes.

He thinks it over. The ocean laps at his toes and makes runnels under his feet. He's gone skinny dipping with his friends at night once or twice. There's a freedom in breaking taboo, a thrill in doing something wrong. He wants to feel it again. But it's embarrassing, too. It's the middle of the day and Wilson just knows someone will see him. He'll get caught and someone will tell his mother, and she'll say, "Oh, James."

It feels like losing to walk into the water in his clothes, but he does it anyway. He goes in up to his knees. This isn’t so bad, and if he doesn’t go any deeper his clothes will barely get wet at all. The water is cool on his legs and the sun is warm on his shoulders. Wilson starts to relax.

There are gulls farther out, calling and circling. Wilson walks parallel to the shore and watches them for a long time.

"Hey!" a voice calls. It's so familiar, that voice, but he can't place it. It's someone he knows, though. Someone he loves. He looks around to find who called him and sees a figure further out waving at him.

"Come on, let's swim," the figure calls. Wilson is not troubled that he can't identify this person. His dream-self knows that he wants to be with the swimmer. He starts to head out away from the beach. The water gets cooler, deeper. His shorts are half submerged. The figure is closer, bobbing and diving, playful while she--he?-- waits for him.

"Come on."

Wilson hesitates. The water is getting deeper fast, and the sky is cloudy.

"You come here," he says, gesturing with his hand for the swimmer to come in closer to the beach.

"Wilson, come on out, come out here, there's nothing to be afraid of," says House, because of course it's House.

"It's going to storm," Wilson says. "We have to come in."

House laughs as the first drops of rain start to fall. "I love swimming in a storm."

It's raining harder. House seems to find something to stand on out there where the water would be over Wilson's head. He's totally at ease, standing with half his body out of the water, face raised to the sky, laughing.

He holds his hand out to Wilson. "Come out," he says. The rain washes over him. Wilson has a sudden urge to swim out beside him, to laugh in the rain and the summer storm, and then drowse beside House on the beach like a couple of seals in the sun.

The sky darkens. Thunder rumbles. It's really dangerous now. They have to get back to land. Now, now, now! The sea tugs at him, wanting to bring him farther out, to House, to…wherever the sea washes swimmers when they get lost. Wilson fights the pull of the water. He moves several steps shoreward. He yells for House to do the same.

House is gone.

Wilson stands stock still, searching around for any sign of him. He dives under but the water is murky; he can see nothing. He calls and calls, but not even the gulls answer. The sea is rough, waves slap at his face. He's cold and alone and scared.

He turns to get back to shore. He'll find a lifeguard. A rescue team will do a better job of finding House than one man. He half walks, half swims a few yards. He can see the big Ferris wheel over to his left, and the lights on the boardwalk, and he makes for them.

A tongue of lightning snakes down to the sea. Almost at the same moment thunder cracks like a whip, and Wilson thinks this is really bad. That’s his last coherent thought.

The bolt that hits him is silent. Everything flashes into white hot light. Current runs through him, through every nerve in his body, throws him into a convulsion of light, heat and energy. It's so powerful, so incredible. The power sears him, and he knows the ocean will swallow what's left.

Wilson sits bolt upright in bed, gasping. His pajamas are drenched with sweat. He hasn't had a nightmare in years, decades, but that's what this was. Did he scream? He hopes he didn't scream.

Nightmares have reasons. It doesn’t take much analysis to decide on the meaning of dreaming about summer in the middle of a nasty winter, though. Here in reality-land it’s snowing again and he’s going to have to dig out his car in the morning.

Wilson is certain that’s all the dream means. He waits to lie back down until, finally, he can no longer feel the frantic beating of his heart.

***

The next few days Wilson spends on the wards. He doesn’t even realize he's avoiding House until House waylays him in the clinic and reminds him of a movie night he blew off.

"If you can't make it tonight," House tells him," you won’t get another chance for two weeks."

That's right. House is going to a conference in Maui and combining it with some vacation time.

"Hawaii," House muses happily. He's leaning right in the doorway of the exam room. "Roasted pigs, humpback whales, and girls wearing coconut bikinis and grass skirts."

Wilson smiles. "You'll have a good time."

"Yeah," House agrees. He sounds annoyed. "You should have registered when I told you to. Now you'll be stuck in Princeton in January, and I won't miss you at all."

There is a flash, like lightning, and suddenly Wilson gets it—gets what his subconscious was trying to tell him in that dream. It all comes clear, and just like that a decision is made that Wilson hadn't realized he'd been ignoring all these years.

"I know you won't miss me," he says, "because I'm coming too."

House looks startled, then gleeful. "You're coming to the conference?"

Wilson nods. The conference is booked solid but he can pull a few strings. That isn't the hard part. Now that it's to this point, now that he's finally going to actually say this to House he finds all his glib banter has deserted him. He speaks slowly, choosing his words with care.

"Yes, House. I'm coming out to the conference. With you."

House's eyes are wary, full of questions.

"So long as you'll come out with me too," Wilson adds.

There is a pause as House's eyes search Wilson's face. Then he holds out his arm, like he did in the dream. Unlike in the dream, Wilson takes it. House tugs and they are standing chest to chest in the exam room doorway. Wilson is suddenly aware of everything that is happening around them, from the soft cotton of House's shirt under his hands to the shocked expressions on the nurses' staring faces. Then House's lips touch his and it all explodes in a rush of heat and fire and sweetness. When they part, it’s only for long enough for House to come in to the room. He closes the door behind him.


End file.
